Because You Asked for It - Chapter 18 (Patreon)

Chapter 18. Kate

The next two weeks had me walking a tightrope between being strict and being a bitch. 

The day after my five orgasms, I spanked Jordy for leaving a wet diaper open on the bathroom floor while he took a shower. We’ve all been there – you drop your clothes in a heap and jump in the shower – but not all of us leave a used diaper out there for others to look at when they go in to get Tylenol. The key, of course, is I couldn’t spank Jordy severely for everything little thing. That would ruin it, and anyway, pain wasn’t the point. Humiliation was, and instilling in Jordy the awareness that his butt was never safe unless he behaved himself. So I yelled over the water for him to turn it off, opened the curtain, and told him off, and gave him five swats on each wet butt cheek. Then I gave him five more when he turned back to the shower instead of hopping out and throwing the thing away.

I checked our bank account and found he’d had lunch out after our day with Angie despite knowing my feelings about it. When I confronted him and he admitted to eating fried food, his pants came down right there in the kitchen. He thought the spoon hurt, until he felt the spatula. That was the first time I ever made Jordy sniffle during a spanking, and it made me wonder what I’d need to do, and under what circumstances, to be able to spank my husband to tears.

It wasn’t just spankings, though. He did those extra chores, including planting some new ornamentals in the raised beds in the back along the privacy fence. He did a nice job, cleaned everything up well in the yard, and put everything away. But oh darn, the shovel wasn’t washed off. If you’re going to make your husband clean his tools, you may as well make an event of it. I didn’t just let him hose it off. I ordered him outside with a bucket and brush, and though the shovel didn’t sparkle like brand new, Jordy understood the importance of putting his toys away correctly.

I took his phone away for a day. He has a bedtime, and he missed it by twenty minutes because he was screwing around on his phone. If he were my teenage son, that’s what I would’ve done. And he pouted about it like a teenager. I think having something taken away made him feel even childish, and I was on the verge of threatening him with a spanking if he didn’t just accept it, but instead I told him I’d keep it another way. That quieted him down, and I filed that eureka moment away for later.

We were at the grocery store when I took it up to Level 10. It was a Wednesday. Jordy went to see Angie for his physical on Monday; we got the results of his bloodwork back on Tuesday. He was pretty healthy overall, but his LDL, his bad cholesterol, and his triglycerides were high. Not dangerously so yet, but high. If it weren’t his health, I’d have done the I-told-you-so dance while making him watch.

I was walking back from the dairy aisle, and Jordy had the cart in the butcher section, where he was supposed to get boneless, skinless chicken breast. Thank goodness my naughty boy is so inept. “Were you trying to sneak this in,” I asked as I pulled a steak out from under our lettuce.

“No,” Jordy said, failing to sound incredulous. Unbelievable.

“So it just happened to end up under the lettuce?”

“Yeah, I guess. Uh, can I not have that? I thought it was on the list.” He meant the list Angie gave him, the one we’d read together the night before listing what foods he could and couldn’t have.

“So it didn’t end up under the carrots. Or the grapes. Or bread. It just happened to end up under the big, leafy stuff that, I for one, would choose to hide something under?”

“Yeah, and what’s the big deal? If I can’t have that, I’ll just put it back.” He reached for it, and I held it out of reach.

“You’re seriously going to stand there and tell me you didn’t know red meat was on the ‘No’ list? Or that you even need the list, as though you’re not an educated, informed adult and know damn well red meat is bad for your cholesterol?” I think some people overheard us. I didn’t care if they did.

“It’s not all bad for you. The lean cuts are okay sometimes.”

“Yeah, this a is a ribeye. And now you’re changing your story.” 

Let’s set aside fetishes and relationship dynamics. Let’s just pause to marvel at 1) what a terrible liar my husband is, 2) how ridiculous it is for a grown man to sneak food into the cart like a 10-year-old sneaking cookies, and 3) that this is my husband’s health, and Angie gave us a month – just one month – to get his number down or said he’d need to go on a statin. People don’t normally come off statins. I wasn’t worried about side effects. I was worried about Jordy having a chronic condition. If he did his best for a month and the number didn’t budge, that’s life. Maybe it’s genetic. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But Jordy not caring about this was not an option.

Jordy changed tactics. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I don’t know whether he was ashamed – I certainly would be after that pathetic attempt, on so many levels, to get away with that – or if he was feigning it with his puppy dog eyes. Come to think of it, I don’t think he had puppy dog eyes before I started disciplining him. But not the point.

“Put it back,” I instructed him. And he did. Maybe he thought that was the end of it. Had he not lied to me, it might have been. I wanted to drive that particular point home.

“What’s next on the list,” he asked when he came back, thinking, I suppose, that we hd moved on.

I held up the list and pretended to read – I’m a very sarcastic disciplinarian, it turns out. “A hairbrush.”

“That’s on the other side of the store. Anything else in this section?” So he missed that subtext. Oh well, he’d figure it out shortly.

“Follow me.” We walked past a bunch of aisles we needed things from. I wonder if Jordy was slowly grasping how much trouble he was in. It being a grocery store, it’s not like they had a huge selection of hairbrushes. I picked the widest one, plastic, unfortunately. I decided we’d be going hairbrush shopping in the near future for a heavy, solid, wooden one.

My intent at first was to pick out a brush, tell him he was getting a spanking when we got home, and then letting that sink in while we shopped. Two things changed my mind. First, Jordy was looking at his phone. Which is fine, normally. I don’t care about screen time (so long as it’s not after bedtime), and I’m certainly no less attached to my phone than anybody else. But it just irked me. Did he think they were just tiny lies and didn’t count? Did he even realize he’d just lied to me? Did he realize how big a deal that is and that he was in serious trouble because of it? Jordy seemed to have stopped thinking ahead. He was never great at it, but it was just like common sense had fled from his brain, and it’s not because he’s not smart. He’s actually crazy smart, which just makes if frustrating sometimes to watch him blunder into situations like this.

The second was courtesy of the high-end grocery store we shop at. Most stores, a dingy men’s room and lady’s room. This one: a family restroom, right there between the pharmacy and the beauty aisles. 

“Follow,” I said again, and I walked the fifteen yards to where the vitamins ended. I put the cart out of the way. I did have the courtesy to lower my voice, as much for him as me. Not like I’m looking to get banned from my favorite grocery store.

“Jordan,” I said quietly, slowly, and calmly, “when I’m done talking, you and I are going to go in there, and I’m going to give you a preview of the spanking you have coming when we get home.”

“What!” He said it so fast and so quiet, like a knife through air as the color drained from Jordan’s face. 

“I’m not done talking,” I enunciated slowly. His spanking would be private, in a public space, but I was going to speak my mind there and then. “You just lied to me. Do you realize that? You lied to me. You deliberately tried to sneak that into the cart: that’s a lie. You denied it: that’s a lie. You pretended you didn’t know you can’t have that: another lie.”

“Katie …”

“You really need to be quiet right now for your own sake. I’m trying to help you. And I’m your wife. This has nothing to do with fetishes. In all our years, Jordan, I have never, ever lied to you.” That’s when the stunned look on his face was replaced by what I knew was genuine shame. “Understand, right now, that that is a big deal. It doesn’t matter what you lied about. It doesn’t matter if it seems small to you. It’s a big deal, and when you lie three times in a row, it hurts me even more. Like telling me the truth just doesn’t matter to you. So we’re going to go in there, we’re going to finish our shopping after, and you’re going to unload the groceries and then go straight into the corner in the guest room. Understand?”

“Yes,” he said quietly, “But this is crazy. Can’t …”

“If your hand isn’t on the door knob in two seconds, we’re doing this in the car.” I didn’t mean it, but if he had protested, I’d have instantly meant it. He opened the door and we slipped inside. I locked it behind us.

“Katie, what if we get caught?” He didn’t try to bat my hands away when I undid his belt, so at least he had learned that part of our new lifestyle.

“You should have thought about that before.”

“But …”

I instantly straightened up and put a finger in his face. “Where and when I decide. That’s what you agreed to, and I’ve never – ever! – seen anymore more in need of an on-the-spot spanking.” 

I pantsed him, tugged his diaper down, grabbed his left wrist, and attacked his backside like I was trying to put out a fire. He got thirty, and he got them fast and hard, getting on his tiptoes and arching his back trying to get away. He didn’t. It was loud, the hollow hairbrush making a thwock sound instead of a smack. Clearly it wasn’t the same as wood, but it made an impression.

I straightened back up, and Jordy stood there a bit stunned, I think. I wasn’t stunned. To me, it was the natural consequence of his misdeed. From the moment the idea came into my head, it seemed right. Though I’d never physically punish a child, Jordy was childish, and he got a childish punishment in a childish way. And he lied to me, deliberately, and however humiliated he was, whatever risk of getting caught we ran, was worth it if he came away from the experience knowing that his behavior was unacceptable and would not be tolerated.

“To be continued,” I said as I crossed my arms. “Re-dress yourself, please.” Jordan pulled up his diaper, got it situated, and then his pants. “Next on the list is a pack of soap, cheap, and then we’ll do our normal shopping.”

“Okay,” he nodded eagerly.

“We will come right back here if you need another spanking,” I warned him. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more: finish shopping quickly to continue our “conversation” as soon as possible, or slowly so he could think about it.